Cabin Fever
by binkeybella
Summary: Repercussions from the hunt for Bodnar and Gibbs' most recent 'woodworking' project come back to haunt him.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: I know I swore to never write canon stories anymore, but you know the 'never say never' edict.**_

_**This came to me while I was at work, watering plants in the green house. Don't ask me how the two are connected. Just one of those plot bunnies that scampered in and made itself to home, and sort of jumbled, but I have had writers block on my other stories, so maybe this will help unblock them! **_

Well, he guessed that explained it all, then. All the times he'd gone to Gibbs' house and found it empty, even the basement, save for scattered tools and scraps of lumber and lots of sawdust on the floor. So often Tony had needed to talk to him about something, to work something out in his head while his boss listened, or told his second what he needed to know whether Tony wanted to hear it or not. But really, it had been a while since he had felt comfortable sharing his inner most thoughts and concerns with Gibbs , what with the gruff way the man had handled Tony's last few basement confessions over the past many months, so his visits had been getting fewer and shorter anyways.

Now, here before his very eyes, stood the reason Gibbs had been so unavailable and preoccupied. And all this time Tony had thought perhaps the mysterious chick in the silver sports car was back in town. He had always hoped that that was the case, that his boss wasn't ignoring him, wasn't showing Tony where he stood in Gibbs' life by cutting him out of it.

It was a beautiful cabin, the most solidly built thing Tony could ever remember seeing since visiting Notre Dame Cathedral as a teenager. The sparseness of it took nothing away from its quality, and even though Tony had never built anything more complex in his life than a simple birdhouse at summer camp, he wasn't dull enough to not appreciate the workmanship of the simple but sturdy dwelling.

Even so, he hated it on sight.

Thrown into having to meet there to avoid being surveilled by probably every alphabet agency, including their own, Tony's guts clenched and roiled when he realized just what he was looking at – the source of his many nights of doubt and angst. Gibbs had purposely made himself unavailable other than being able to leave voice messages on his cell, to build this 'hideaway'. He had never given Tony one single clue as to what he was doing or where he was doing it, just dropping off the face of the earth until work called him into the office. Did McGee and Ziva know anything about it? He wouldn't be surprised to find out they had not only been there already, but had had a hand in building it. Nothing surprised him about his team anymore. Which was pretty freaking damned sad when he considered exactly what the 'surprises' had been in the past years.

_Gibbs leaving without so much as a decent, heart-felt goodbye._

_Gibbs coming back to help Ziva, though he had not once answered any of Tony's pleas for assistance_ _with a difficult case and even more difficult team and director._

_Ziva by-passing him altogether in favor of a man who seemed to barely remember her._

_Gibbs coming back for good, usurping a position he had so righteously given both middle fingers to before dropping it all in Tony's lap, and then behaving as if everyone, especially Tony, had understood he was just taking some time off._

_The entire team happily and inexplicably excluding him from their little team dinner._

_Gibbs taking his sweet time bring Tony back from Agent Afloat, even after the notorious Agent Lee had been found to be the traitorous mole._

Beginning to wonder if the list in his head was endless, Tony brought himself up short when he realized how far his mind had meandered from the _drama de jour, _only to find his thoughts drifting back to how they had all gotten to that point in the first place. Secrets, lies, cover-ups, revenge run amok, and a team behaving in ways he never imagined possible for them. It was a good part of what had been eating away him the past few months, what he needed to lay out and look at and get a handle on, to at least make it more palatable for him to swallow whenever someone handed him some crap about righteous kills and finding justice.

He knew about Gibbs' own thirst for vengeance against the Reynosas. He knew about good ole Mike Franks' cold-blooded bullets, and the off-kilter Jenny Shepard murdering her hated 'Frog'. He even knew about Gibbs' mother-in-law, though that had taken some time and effort to verify, and how Gibbs had walked away from all of them knowing full well what had happened and chalking it up to instant karma. All of it had taken some doing to choke down, much less digest, though it had never truly settled right in Tony's blue blooded veins – the uniform wearing ones, not his father's misguided legacy. The justice system was there for a reason, and though it very often malfunctioned, it served to bring equity about in a legal, logical, provable sense.

And yet, these past few months he had watched as Gibbs and Ziva had plotted behind everyone's backs, with the blessings and urgings of their director, and eventually even McGee had been enlisted in their holy war as their technical cog in the wheel that had been turning since the eve of Jackie Vance and Eli Davids' untimely deaths. Jackie's death had shocked and numbed Tony, and he still found it difficult to imagine her warmth and steadfastness snuffed out for good, but Eli David was, if not deserving of a violent death, at least was accustomed to living knowing that assassins waited constantly in the shadows to avenge a lost family member, or perhaps even take the man's place in the chain of command. He was sympathetic to Ziva's grief, and the conflicting emotions of her loss, but not once would he verbally condone her plans to seek out her father's killer and take an eye for an eye.

Now he had recently found out that not only was she plotting to find Bodnar and assassinate him, but Gibbs and McGee were willing accomplices, if not by deed, then by implicit approval and concealment of their plans. And as usual, he had been the last to know, and then only by his dogged determination to find her and stop her before she caused harm to herself and the team. He had outwardly shrugged it off with his usual water off a duck's back attitude and settled in to help them, hoping he could at least keep them from being killed even if he couldn't keep them from going to prison. But inwardly, it had cut like a knife, or perhaps, been the snipping of the last stitches that were holding his battered self-worth and wobbly faith in his team together.

Suddenly the cabin, Gibbs' house and basement, the MCRT bullpen, were all as meaningless to him as the mansion in Long Island he had called home until he was twelve. Bricks, mortar, wood, concrete, windows – all material with no substance. Empty of warmth, devoid of any sort of comfort or belongingness. In the end, it wouldn't matter anyways. Gibbs had informed them that in order to keep them all from prosecution, he had offered himself up as sacrifice to yet another black ops mission, and that the team was no more. Instead of misery and anger, Tony had been surprised to find himself feeling relief and a sense of liberation at not having to be a part of a team that not only no longer felt like any sort of family, but had purposely betrayed him by keeping him out of the loop yet again and walked a path he would never have considered taking by himself.

Having accrued considerable unused leave and holiday pay hours he had weeks ahead of him to consider what his options might be and where he might like to work next. He hoped it would mitigate some of the sadness he felt from his most recent loss, that of Gibbs as mentor, friend and surrogate father, but in reality, Tony had to admit to himself that Gibbs had been none of those things for him in recent months, even when he had known the rocky path Tony had been treading and even after Gibbs' admittance a year ago that his team members and Abby were his family, his kids. If they were, then Tony had obviously become the red-headed step child, cast out of the clan for his failure to conform to whatever rules and ideas Gibbs had laid down in his latest venture off the rails. For all Tony knew, he was the only one who had been told about the team's dissolution, and while he was home making new plans and collecting sickdays and holiday pay, Gibbs, McGee and Ziva were back at the bullpen working on the latest hot case.

Tony laughed out loud to himself, a sound that was more of a strangled scream than real humor, thinking how deep into the pit he had descended to be thinking such a thing, and stopped abruptly before Gibbs could question what was going on with him. He looked up at the man who used to be his boss, who looked at Tony as if he were a stranger, and who looked like a stranger to Tony. How could this be the same man he had given so much of his devotion to, his literal blood, sweat and tears for?

So many years of his life, so many orders followed without question. And yet, there in the wilderness of the Virginia hill, stood a cabin that Gibbs had built without Tony having any clue, without any explanation as to why he wasn't available anymore for his second in command, for his special agent who had given and taken so much, for his supposed surrogate son. He had not wanted Tony to know of its existence. It was Gibbs' way of separating himself from the younger man just as assuredly as condoning Ziva's obsession to avenge her father and then including everyone but Tony in the actual mission.

That last night in the bullpen, Tony had cleaned out his desk without a word, no matter how Ziva and McGee, even Gibbs, prodded him to speak his mind. They would not want to hear what he had to say to any of them, and once he knew once he started, it would turn into a raving, foaming at the mouth rant. Better to just pack up and leave on some sort of peaceful terms, even if his emotions were anything but. McGee had tried to shake his hand in farewell, but Tony had rebuffed him, muttering something about hating goodbyes, but thinking he might knock the younger agent to the floor and ask him what the hell he had that Tony didn't, that made Gibbs treat him the way Tony used to be treated, no, _better _than Tony had ever been treated by their boss.

As for Gibbs, he avoided the man altogether, until his ex-boss confronted him in an angry huff and backed him into the tall filing cabinet.

"Say whatcha need to say, DiNozzo, don't keep hiding it under that idiot act."

"Not an act, Gibbs. I _am _an idiot. Everyone here knew it long before _I _bought a clue. But then again it's hard to get a clue when you're an idiot, so...there ya go."

"Just what the hell is _that _supposed to mean?"

"You figure it out, Gibbs. If you can't, McGenious over there can do it for you. Or your favorite ninja agent, she's got the answers to everything. Me, I'm just a clueless bastard, thinking maybe you were out having a good time with that mystery woman in the silver Mercedes and all this time you've been building a secret hideaway. Well, secret to me, anyways." Tony lowered his voice to near whisper, hoping McGee would get the hint and find somewhere else to be. "I needed you, Gibbs. Things were happening that...I needed to talk to you about..you knew it, and you didn't give a damn. I may not be handy with a hammer and saw, but I could've done some of the heavy lifting and we could've talked over some beers afterwards. Seems you enlisted somebody else's help, cause I know you didn't move all those big logs up that high by yourself. Doesn't matter now. You go do your little suicide mission. I'm done here, in fact, I think I was done about seven years ago and just didn't know enough to leave. Like I said, clueless idiot. Bad habit of mine, along with a lot of others."

Tony pushed past the angry ex-MCRT leader and grabbed up his small box of personal belongings, his badge, weapon, and work cellphone sitting starkly atop his desk, his shocked team mates gawking in disbelief. Well, then at least he hadn't been the only clueless bastard, Tony decided. Seemed that Gibbs and the others hadn't even considered that he would go quietly and happily into the night after the FUBAR things they had just done and been through, nearly getting themselves killed, wrecking his new luxury car in the process, and after all of it, ending up on the brink of prison terms. He should have walked away long ago, should have taken the Rota job. Should have told them all to go do something anatomically impossible...well, he just had, in his own backwards way. Now _he _would be unreachable, and they would be excluded from _his _life, at least until he could decide where and when they fit into it, if at all.

He wasn't even sure about Ducky and Abby. How complicit had _they _been in this whole mess? Neither of them had seemed at all surprised when he and Ziva had flown off on wild goose chase to Berlin. Probably even Fornell knew about it. No matter. Very Special Agent DiNozzo was no more, in fact, Tony realized he probably had never existed, outside his own mind. Now he was just plain Anthony D. DiNozzo, all round fun guy and movie buff extraordinaire. Tomorrow was another day, with open-ended possibilities. He gave a wry grimace at Gibbs' furious face just before he pushed the button for the elevator door to close. With any luck, he could get to the islands before anyone knew he had even left the city.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: haha, back by popular demand...a second chapter to a one-shot that never was. Brought to you by the thoughtful actions of a poor deer that slammed into the driver's side of my car on the way home from work last night. Right now I'm waiting for the collision shop to come tow it away, so I seem to have some extra time on my hands. Sweet.**_

_**PS: a bit AU, as I seriously doubt Tony and Gibbs would ever lock horns like this in the series. Not beta'd, all boo boos are mine.**_

If Gibbs could have pried apart the elevator doors, he would have throttled his ex-Senior Field agent. God knew he was angry enough to do some damage to the guy, and it had been a long time coming. Who the hell did DiNozzo think he was, mouthing off to him like that in front of everyone?

Instead, he stood staring at the metal box, fists clenching and unclenching in unanswered rage.

_What the hell does the kid know about justice, about retribution? He's a spineless jellyfish who won't even tell his old man to fuck off, or make his own subordinates respect him. He's never lost what we have, the way we have! Lives in a fucking fantasy movie world! Never would have cut it as a Marine. Weak bastard._

He stormed back to his desk, ignoring McGee and Ziva's still wide-eyed looks, slamming drawers as he emptied them of his few personal belongings.

"What the hell're you sitting there for, clean out your crap and get out of here, it's over, your work is done here."

"No one told us where to go, Boss...er, Gibbs." McGee stuttered, falling back into old habits under the sudden changes and harsh tension.

"Well no, McGee, you _quit, _no one's going to tell you jack shit except to get your ass out of the building."

"Uh, yeah, right. Sorry. Uh..."

"Jesus, McGee, you lose your backbone too, hangin' around DiNozzo?"

"N-no, sir. Er..Gibbs." McGee closed his eyes and sighed in resignation to his sudden backsliding into probiehood. He had seen Tony stand up to his boss before, but never in such a visceral way, and never with such heat and anger in his eyes, and it had shaken him, even after all these years. He wondered what it had done to Gibbs, but didn't dare really take a good look at the man for fear of being turned into a pillar of salt, or worse, disintegrated like an alien from Kirk's phaser beam.

"Then go do something constructive, go work for Morrow at Homeland Security, they're always looking for good agents."

"And I should go there also, Gibbs?" Ziva asked sadly.

"You go wherever you need to go, Ziver. You can probably find something with the CIA, or NSA."  
"And Tony? He is to be tossed to the wolves for doing something totally distasteful to him under your orders?"

"DiNozzo can take care of himself, always has, always will."

"Perhaps. But he was helping _me, _Gibbs. And he was doing it for Jackie."

"Don't kid yourself, Ziva. He was doing it cause I told him to do it and he was my second. He was following orders. Just a job to him, you're giving him way too much credit for being that deep."

"But Gibbs, he -"

"Ziver, stop." the former agent demanded harshly as he slammed the last drawer. "You heard what he said. He was done here seven years ago and just didn't know enough to leave. I didn't know enough to boot him out on his sorry ass. Could've had Langer all this time, maybe he wouldn't have gotten killed."

There was no more conversation from either McGee or Ziva, shocked into dumb silence by Gibbs' blunt confession. They knew things had been different the last few years between Tony and their boss, but this was unknown territory. Both resisted the urge to question the man, to see if it was just anger and exhaustion talking, or his real feelings, and hurried to gather up their personal belongings and remove themselves from the oppressive atmosphere. McGee took one long, emotional look around the bullpen that he had called his second home, doubtful he would ever see it again, and headed for the stairs, avoiding taking the elevator with Ziva. It would be too much, the suddenness and sadness of leaving on top of Gibbs' and Tonys' near violent altercation. How had things gone so wrong so fast? It was all supposed to be okay, Vance had sanctioned it, Gibbs had spearheaded it, what the hell had happened?

He cursed himself for being so gullible as to believe that just because he had been on his boss's and the Director's side, he would naturally be on the _winning _side. Gibbs had skirted boundaries many times in the years McGee had worked for him, and always come out fairly unscathed. Now the team was no longer, and Gibbs was on his way to God knew where to pay the price for all of their actions. Once he got home and somewhat settled, McGee sat at his computer, staring at the on-line application for tech support at Homeland. Tony had warned him that he may not be happy with the consequences of getting involved with Ziva and Gibbs' manhunt, but he had flippantly snapped back to the man that being part of a team meant doing things for another team member that might not be easy or safe. DiNozzo had given him a strange look before grating out, "_Well thanks for that novel bit of information, McGee, I'll be sure to add that to my little book of important things I learned from Timmy."_

McGee had shrugged it off, albeit a bit huffily, being certain to get the last word in by snapping back and telling Tony that maybe he ought to think of someone other than Anthony DiNozzo for a change."

The look Tony gave him after that had chilled him. Something had hardened in his partner's eyes, and the flinty coldness of the green belied the heat behind them. McGee had nearly backed up, the way he used to when Gibbs threatened him, but the sudden change in DiNozzo's face passed as quickly as it came, and was replaced with an even more disconcerting blankness. As if the man had pushed a button and reset his brain. Now McGee knew otherwise. DiNozzo had reset his brain alright, but not back to the easy-going man Tim was normally used to. His sometimes friend and often rival had closed himself off and become just another person in the office, efficiently and effectively doing what was asked of him. If McGee had been able to read DiNozzo, really _read _him after all of those years of working so closely together, he would have seen the wheels and cogs moving in Tony's head that were the beginnings of the senior field agent's Plan A.

While McGee was staring dumbly at his computer screen, his ex-boss was at home, slamming cupboard doors and swearing out loud as he cleaned out anything that might spoil while he was away on his supposed 'suicide mission'. He was marginally calmed down from his bullpen melt down, but not enough to let things go, and certainly not enough to stop thinking of the way Tony had looked at him, and the words he had said. He had known all along that the whole vengeance scenario would go against his second's ingrained sense of justice, and it simultaneously made him proud and pissed him off, but mostly pissed. As many years and work days that he had spent with the younger man, and he still couldn't get the blinders off the kid. And what the hell did they actually have in common, anyways? At least McGee understood the military, had the Navy in his blood because of his old man Admiral.

He took what Gibbs told him at face value, and though sometimes he over-thought things, he accepted orders and instructions, knowing his place in the chain of command and always striving for a higher post. DiNozzo? Always getting in his shit about how to do his job. If the guy was so smart, he would have taken that Rota position Jenny offered him. Hell, if it weren't for DiNozzo, Jenny would still be..

_'Enough of this shit.' _Gibbs growled to himself. How long was he going to blame Tony for Jen's version of suicide by cop? And how long was he going to be ignorant to his own short-comings? Hell, the shit he had done in the name of justice could hardly be called short-comings, more like – going off half-cocked in a blind rage without thinking of the consequences. At the time it had seemed the right thing to do, the _only _thing to do.

And yet when they were done, Tony had always looked at him and treated him differently, with barely concealed disappointment and a hint of disgust. Each incidence of vigilante justice committed by Gibbs, or condoned and overlooked by him, had cost him more ground in his already shaky kinship with a man he once considered as close as blood, and now the worst of all sins had been committed. Gibbs had ordered DiNozzo to be part of the ill-fated revenge mission, telling himself that if he ordered Tony to participate, the younger agent could use following the chain of command in defense. Truth was, he knew that DiNozzo would die protecting Ziva no matter how wrong-headed he thought the mission was. Ziva would go with or without him, and probably talk a career-driven McGee into going with her, as she had obviously convinced him to help her with the cyber side of tracking down Bodnar.

"Shit." Gibbs swore out loud, loudly enough for it to echo through the old house. Since when had Tony become expendable? Since Jen Shepard's Frog hunting days? She had used him and then used him up, Vance had had no problem taking up where she had left off, and now he himself had sent a clearly unwilling agent on a wild-goose chase to keep safe a girl who had come to mean as much as a daughter to him, like Abby. His girls. And now...McGee was his only boy. Tony would run screaming from the city now that he had been given the blessing to do so, never being able to admit defeat again and quit on his own as he had from the police departments of his youth. He had admitted to Gibbs one night that he was too old to burn any more bridges, that one job was the same as the other anymore anyways.. "Different city, same shit." the kid had told him after his boss had found his way back from Mexico and made himself to home again in the bullpen. Not exactly a ringing endorsement for staying with Gibbs as long as he had.

Gibbs knew that once Tony had left the bullpen under such angry and hurtful circumstances, he was likely to never see the younger man again, and more likely to never know who, if anyone, was watching his six. Worse, he would leave with every reason to think he had yet again made the fatal mistake of allowing someone like Gibbs into his life, only to be told he wasn't good enough, wasn't deserving of that sort of relationship. Gibbs highly doubted DiNozzo would join up with Fornell, the man was too reminiscent of the former Marine, not to mention still attached at the hip as best friends due to the fact that no one else could stand them. And with what had happened with his old partner Danny Price, and now with Gibbs sanctioning and aiding Ziva's revenge mission only to find out from Tom Morrow that they had been hunting and killed the wrong man after all this time...it would be a wonder if Tony was willing ever again to join any sort of law enforcement agency.

Nothing Gibbs could say to his former second would make things any less FUBAR than they were. He had known that as soon he had met with Morrow the last time, realized how wrong he had been and how morally bankrupt he was becoming when it came to setting an example for his 'family'. Tony had tried to tell him, and he had conveniently ignored him, accusing him in his head of being too shallow to make hard choices.

Trouble was, Gibbs concluded, it wasn't that he and DiNozzo had too little in common to hold together a strong bond: it was just the opposite. They were too much alike, and Tony reminded Gibbs of the way he _used _to be before he let his current version of justice mess with his head. The combination of Marine training, Shannon and Kelly's deaths, too many sordid black op missions, and the guilt of wrecking three ex-wives, mixed up with a lot of bourbon and empty nights, had warped him, made him see in black and white areas that used to be gray. Only two sides to a coin, no matter how you flipped it. But Tony could still see a bigger picture, one with differing outcomes and consequences, and more importantly, he was still attuned to the quirks and weaknesses of human nature and how those consequences could hurt more people than just the target.

His SFA had been forced to suppress that trait the past few years, but it was never entirely buried, and Gibbs had learned to hate it when it got brought out. Tony was supposed to be Pinocchio, not Jimminy Crickett. Gibbs' oldest son, the one who did what he was told. Not the one who picked at his father's conscience until Gibbs punished the boy for having the temerity to call things as he saw them. That's why he and McGee got on so well. McGee had never once dared challenge the Admiral's authority, and Gibbs intrinsically knew it and used it against him, just as he used DiNozzo's innate need for recognition and one-upmanship against him to get what he wanted.

It had cost him his team, his job, his family. He had willingly taken the blame for the entire Bodnar mess, but he knew in truth that he was also to blame for the way he had come to think and do things over the years. Grabbing up his go bag, he locked the door behind him, not knowing if he would ever see the place again, and feeling a bit as if he didn't deserve to. Life had taught him to be hard, pragmatic. To get the job done at all costs and not think too deeply about it, no matter the collateral damage. He would have a lot of time now to consider exactly what those costs and damages were, and wonder if, by some chance he did come home, would there be anything or anyone left to come home to.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: Thanks a bunch to all who have reviewed, favorited, followed this little bunny. It's sort of canon, as it's based on the last episode of last season, but sort of AU, because as one reviewer rightly pointed out, we will probably never see the show writers allowing Tony and Gibbs to come to verbal or physical blows, save for the couple of token times Tony has stood up to him. Short chapter, but more to come.**_

_**Also thanks so much for the concern regarding my 'incident'. I have a history of smashed up vehicles as numerous as Tony's fanfic concussions. All while perfectly sober. As my brother says, "She do ding 'em up!" $4000 worth of ding, this time, but repairable, and I wasn't hurt, just shaken up.**_

Over four months had passed since Vance had tendered his premier MCR team's resignations, and he had been obliged to cobble together a new team to take their place. Abby was still doing her magic in the lab, though at a bit of more somber pace, and Ducky and Jimmy still kept Autopsy in top form and credibility. Vance had been in touch with McGee a few times, making sure he was adjusting to the ever-demanding needs of the cyber unit at Homeland, and even Ziva had touched base with a time or two to check on him and the others.

He had heard that Gibbs was in the Balkans somewhere, but had absolutely no intel on DiNozzo, which was surprisingly worrisome to him. Though he would never call the outside of the box Senior Field Agent a close friend, he had come to have a better understanding of the younger man, and even a grudging respect for what he had accomplished in the years he had worked as Gibbs' second. The fact that he seemed to have fallen off the face of the earth, even after Vance had enlisted both Fornell's and Ziva's help, ate at him. He had heard about the dust up between Tony and Gibbs, and how furious DiNozzo had been the last time he had been in the bullpen.

Still, the world didn't stop turning nor crime stop happening because an ex-agent couldn't be located, and Vance had bigger things to worry about than where DiNozzo had gone to ground. His kids were just only now starting to come back to their old selves, and he was still deflecting fallout from the Bodnar fiasco. His rage and disappointment at allegedly having hunted and killed the wrong man had known no bounds, especially after it cost him his best team, and probably Jethro Gibbs' life in the former Marine's attempt to mollify the powers that be and set things right for Jackie Vance and Ziva's father.

Gibbs had never had much feeling for Ziva's father, in fact probably hated him more than he dislike Anthony DiNozzo Senior, but he admired and cared a great deal for Jackie, and felt compelled to find her murderer no matter what mistakes had been made in their original search. If Vance had ever owed anyone anything, nothing compared to what he owed Gibbs for what he was trying to do. He just wished it hadn't cost the team leader his friendship with DiNozzo.

In an office in Milan, Tony chatted with the receptionist as he waited for a meeting with the man behind the door. He was nervous, and cursed himself for being so – this wasn't a job interview, it was an invitation to lunch and to throw around some ideas for security issues facing the new business owner. His nervousness actually stemmed from the fact that he wasn't at all sure about the underpinnings or veracity of this man's latest venture. Things could go south in a big hurry and Tony didn't want to be stuck in the middle of a strange city, regardless of being able to speak the language. If this didn't work out, his life would be a living hell. He would be forced to go back to the states and cozy up to Fornell, whom he'd turned down a job offer from in a heated exchange. Fornell saw no reason for 'DiNutso' to have to even move out of his apartment, much less move out of D.C. Tony saw it differently. Although he respected the Fibbie and enjoyed the mutual razzing relationship between them, he had no desire to fall back into the same rut he had gotten into with Gibbs, even though Fornell swore things would be different for Tony under his leadership. Perhaps so, but Agent Sacks was not about to move over for his sworn enemy, and Tony refused to come on as a probie after all his years Gibbs' SFA. It was a no-win situation for the ex-cop and now ex-Federal agent, and Tony would rather have transferred to another MCR team than lie down in the nest of vipers that awaited him at the Hoover Building. So here he sat, waiting, flirting, and wondering if he wasn't totally asking for another ass-kicking, when the door to the inner office opened and the man Tony had traveled so miles to meet with came out to greet him.

"Junior, good to see you! Sorry I took so long, I was on the phone with Al of people, you remember him, you investigated his son's chauffeur's murder. Nasty ending, that, but Al knew you guys were just doing your jobs, he doesn't hold anything against you!"

"Well, that's nice, Dad, cause his other son turned out to be a murderer who was trying to kill his own brother, so we didn't feel too guilty about it all."

Anthony DiNozzo Senior gave his son a blank sort of look, then ushered them over to the wet bar.

"You must be bone dry after that long flight, siddown, let your old man fix you a wet one!"

Tony sat, his mind beginning to whirl with the possible consequences of what he had just done._ Gibbs_ _would be livid._..he started, then stopped the thought train before it could derail. Gibbs wasn't here, and he wouldn't be anywhere near enough to yell at him or head slap the hell out of him now. The thought was both liberating and terrifying. He had relied on the man for so many years to have his six that he suddenly felt vulnerable, even dealing with his own father. Maybe _especially _dealing with his own father. Hell on it, there was relying on someone to have your six, and then there was giving your power over to them and letting them use it against you. He was a grown man, forty something years old and trained in all sorts of physical and psychological combat, not a defenseless child. In giving Jethro Gibbs all he had and more for the last twelve years, he had lost a part of himself, that part that used to be able to make decisions and live his own life without first wondering if Gibbs would approve. How bizarre was that? Well, Jethro would very decidedly disapprove of Tony's meeting with his father in a posh rented office space in Italy's second largest city. Something about that fact gave Tony a rush of adrenaline big enough to make him smile for his father.

In a much smaller city than Milan, in fact, in what could barely be called a village, Jethro Gibbs sat on watch in an abandoned hotel's only livable room. He had tracked his person of interest to a remote corner of Croatia, and was waiting for him to come out of the tiny eatery across the street. Something twinged in his gut, something that felt like a Tony In Trouble cramp, but maybe it was that sarma he had eaten for dinner last night. Eating on missions like this was a bit hazardous, even _his _iron gut couldn't prepare him for some of the unrefrigerated meals he was forced to eat in places no one had ever heard of, much less visited. He was sure it would have affected him by now if it had been the cabbage covered meat and rice concoction. Nope, it was definitely DiNozzo, and he had no way of getting to him, if he had even the slightest idea where in the world the guy was.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Ackkk...My apologies for being such a dufus. An astute reader/reviewer rightly pointed out that McGee would probably not be welcome at Homeland after Gibbs and Vance directly defying Tom Morrow's orders to leave Bodnar alone and let him deal with Jackie and Eli's killer. I just grabbed an agency and used it without thinking it through – gah, I'm taking after Gibbs now, aren't I? Well, maybe Morrow accepted Tim into the agency so he could torture him personally? I dunno. No matter, maybe my muse will come with a solution to my stupidity before the end of the story...poor muse. Also, I haven't abandoned my stories, just super busy with work and summer yard work and well, all the other stuff that takes up a peeps time.**_

Contrary to Tony's original (and valid) misgivings, things had_ not _gone to hell in a hand basket with his father ten minutes into their reunion. In fact, he had actually enjoyed himself, and for the first time, felt some sort of familial emotions towards the man. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the vacuum he suddenly felt in his life now that Gibbs had dropped out of it, he wasn't sure. Maybe it was just that he was on his father's turf now, with no work mates fawning over Senior, or giving Tony smug looks of satisfaction for his discomfort, or worry that Gibbs was going to k.o the man in the middle of the bullpen.

Whatever the reason, Tony took it at face value, not reading anything more into it than the planets being aligned and this was probably a one-off sort of thing. He and his father, on occasion, had managed to have spent a few pleasant days together in the past, mostly when he was still too young to understand how self-absorbed Senior was. This was just another day, to add to the four or five other ones. He had no illusions that for any wild reason, he and his father wouldn't be at each other's throats tomorrow.

It didn't matter, he was only staying the night, and then flying on to London to meet with Petey, his British cousin whom he'd remained friends with since childhood. His father had foot the bill for him to fly to Milan, with the blessings of Sheik Omar Ibn Alween, and Tony had sprung for the passage to London and parts unknown. One of the Prince's private jets had picked him up at a small airport outside of D.C, leaving his departure undetected and virtually untraceable. Prince 'Al' had kindly offered to jet him the remainder of the journey, but Tony had politely turned the man down, not wanting to follow in his father's tacky footsteps of mooching off anyone he could.

He thoroughly enjoyed the lush hotel and the fine cuisine of its dining room, and after the two hours it took to help solve a security problem for his old man's newest venture with the Sheik, which Tony highly suspected was fabricated to get him to come join his father for a little bragging time, he settled down in the marble jacuzzi tub with a glass of very expensive wine, which Tony also suspected was being footed by the Sheik Omar along with his air fare and hotel bill. Tony didn't care. He was tired of playing by the rules, he had tried to always do the right thing, first for his father, then his school instructors, his coaches and police captains, and finally and most importantly, Jethro Gibbs. Look where it had gotten him. Caving in to the pressure of his partners and bosses when every fiber of his being told him they were going in the wrong direction, he had been false to himself, and forced to toss in his hand along with the rest of the team.

It seemed to be no huge deal for them, though Tim and Ziva fussed audibly about missing the agency and team members, and Gibbs was totally nonplussed, behaving as if it was the normal course of things, and it had been inevitable for them to part company all at once. But it had been a huge deal for him. Not only were Abby, Ducky and his team mates the only solid, stable thing he'd ever had in his life, he was at a loss for what the future held for him. Vance had all but bent over backwards to make sure Tim and Ziva were placed in non-hostile, relatively high end positions, and Gibbs had made his own bed by agreeing to sell his soul by returning to his sniper for hire roots, but no one had approached or asked Tony where he would be going, or if he had a place to be going to.

Not that he had given them much of a chance after the shit hit the fan, but still, they had been given the courtesy of 'job placement' by a man who had never been, and now never would be, a fan of Anthony DiNozzo. Tony had made it clear before he left for Berlin with Ziva that he was going against his better judgment, and that they all needed to take a deep breath and a step back and a good look at the cliff they were getting ready to stampede off from. Unfortunately, level heads were not prevailing at the moment, and they had accused him of being insensitive to the memories of Jackie Vance and Eli David. That he simply did not want to be yet another agent in the long list of Gibbs' vigilante law enforcers had never occurred to them.

After his showdown in the bullpen with Gibbs, Tony had a sudden and deep need to be bad, to go off on his own little payback spree, knowing full well how pissed Gibbs would be if he knew Tony had done his father's bidding and jetted off to Milan. He was smart enough, and certainly jaded enough, to know that this little bonding moment with Senior was just that, little, and momentary. Tomorrow, hell, probably already, he was not even on his father's radar, and wouldn't be until he needed something else from his son. That was the way they rolled. About as dysfunctional as it got, but when Tony thought about it, nothing about the way that he and Gibbs interacted was exactly 'normal', either. Head slaps? Grunts? Emotional blackmail punctuated by occasional good ol' boy nights of shared steaks and too much alcohol.

Sitting in the hot bubbling jacuzzi, Tony finally started considering his options, and decided not to do anything for the time being. He was in Europe, and had brought his ATM and credit cards, backed by a small nest egg he'd been unwittingly sitting on for years after his mother had passed away. It had been started by his mother, kept secret from his rainbow chasing, philandering father, and gifted to him after college when his mother's solicitor had finally tracked him down.

He had made a big show of hoping to inherit some of his Uncle Clive's fortune, yet another ruse to throw anyone off about his wealth. His team and co-workers had taunted him through the years about growing up rich and privileged, never considering it might not have made for the happiest of lives with such tormented and absent parents, and Tony had never let them know any different. He resented the fact that they all, including Gibbs, assumed they knew everything there was to know about him from his human resources profile and a few off-hand comments he made. He knew a lot more about them then he let on, and they all would have been shocked, perhaps angry, about the depth of knowledge he had accumulated regarding their pasts over the years. Ziva and Tim had always arrogantly assumed Tony's contacts in the real world, and computer skills, no doubt paled heartily in comparison to their own, and that his circle of friends consisted merely of frat brothers and a few fellow NCIS employees.

He had attempted at first to convince them otherwise, but had gotten drowned out in the cacophony of their derisive laughter and comments. After a while, he decided to keep even more secrets from them about the skills and networking he had developed over his years as a police detective. Even the military academy he attended and college had provided the savvy son of a conman with a world of contacts, some benign, some not so above board. If there was something he couldn't figure out how to access on the computer, he had buddies who could. When he needed to know where some suspect or person of interest most likely went to ground, he usually knew who could ferret them out. Kate had eventually caught on to his wealth of outside help and begrudgingly learned to appreciate him for it. Gibbs had known from the start, and was rarely surprised when Tony came up with information no one else had been able to find. He had done his homework before hiring the kid, and knew how resourceful Tony was.

Now none of it mattered. He had no use for any of those hard-won skills at the moment, other than being able to work with his father for long enough to enjoy it and short enough to not want to murder the man in his sleep. Which usually worked out to be about twelve hours. NCIS had become a comfort zone for him, in spite of the often jagged edges his co-workers brought to it. He'd always been a fast healer, mostly out of necessity, but lately it had been getting more difficult to recover from the wounds, and this last fiasco engineered without his knowledge had given him serious thought as to if it was really worth it to him to stay. Now he had his answer. No solution yet, but at least an answer to the back and forth 'stay or don't stay' conversation going on in his head the past few weeks. Had it only been weeks, or perhaps years?

He tried not to have regrets, but in his line of work, they came with the rest of the baggage working in law enforcement generally heaped on you. Missed leads that resulted in cases going cold, or worse, another crime; missed opportunities for having a wife and kids, missed promotions for misguided bosses...the list seemed endless. Now he missed the bullpen and the excitement of the chase and the solving of puzzles, and maybe a little bit the Probie, and a lot Abby and Ducky. Gibbs...well, the man was twelve years of Tony's life wrapped in regret. Things could have been so different between them if...well, Tony wasn't sure what that 'if' was exactly.

Words said, not said, secrets kept, trust broken – that the blame lay mostly at the reticent former Marine's sale rack Sears boots, Tony had no doubt about that. That some of it lay at Tony's own designer shoes, well he knew that to be true, too. He had allowed Gibbs to treat him like a doormat, many times over, and it had eventually become habit for the team lead. McGee and Ziva had simply followed their leader, seemingly delighted to have permission from the big man in charge to do their own thing when it suited them instead of following chain of command, until it got to be a habit for them, too.

Tony knew damned well what had gone down when he had canvassed that high-end neighborhood looking to get a voice match while his partners waited in the car for him. He had alternately silently steamed and agonized over reporting them, but if it had indeed all been just a joke he would have looked like a poor sport and made life even more miserable for himself on the team. If it hadn't been a joke, if they truly _had _left him swinging in the wind...well, he was pretty sure he didn't want to know that truth, or even contemplate it. Not only the dire consequences for Tim and Ziva, and probably some for himself, but the break-up of a team he thought he considered family. Not to mention what it have pushed him to the brink of emotional ruin to confront the fact that his friends, partners, and supposed 'family' had thought so little of him as to disregard protocol and leave him without any back up.

Most of all, he was afraid to find out what Gibbs would do if he found out about the whole sorry mess. Or, more accurately, in Tony's mind, what he _wouldn't _do about it if he found out. He was pretty sure Gibbs would find a reason to point the finger of blame at him, if only to keep McGee's and Ziva's chestnuts out of the fire and keep them on the team. Not exactly the best of reasons to not report gross insubordination to your team leader, but nothing in Tony's past, or past experience with Gibbs and the team, told him that it was a safe bet or even the right thing to do.

When he had been grilled once by his team as to why he was suddenly changing his behavior, he had claimed out loud that if '_you keep on doing what you've been doing, you'll keep on getting what you've got.' _Maybe it was time to actually take those words to heart and apply them to his future. He for sure wasn't going to go into leagues with his father, no matter how fine the hotel room and its room service was, but he wasn't at all sure he could go back to his team now, either, if indeed there _was _ever going to be a team again, which he was beginning to doubt. Or any other team on NCIS. Problem was, he had no idea what he really wanted to do now. Well, he was in Milan now, and the French Riviera was not that far away. Taking another drink of the very expensive bubbly his father had provided for him, he decided it perhaps be fun to go play at being James Bond for a month or two.


End file.
